


bruderliebe.

by softgay



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Childhood Memories, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Other, Past Child Abuse, Protective Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 21:12:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1662617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softgay/pseuds/softgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He wouldn’t dare admit that he already misses him, clinging to the struggling pet rabbit in his grasp—and even she would eventually scamper away, out of his arms, away from him.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Out of reach like the words he could no longer take back.</i><br/><i>Only the numbness stayed, as it always had. His only constant.</i><br/><i>He’ll come to know, later on in life, that his brother always tried to be constant.</i></p><p> </p><p>The bond between Noiz and his little brother through the years. From toddlers to teens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bruderliebe.

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking a lot about Noiz’s brother and his bond with Noiz, especially after reading summaries of the Summer Side Stories. When I was typing this out, it started as just a few lines of childhood headcanons, but turned into a 4-page drabble thing? 
> 
> Also we need a fan-name or something for this guy. Or is there a canon name I don’t know of…yet? idk ahhhh

The little brother would often try and sneak his way down this forbidden corridor, where this locked door was. Behind that ornate door, of course, would be Noiz, where he was kept hidden away. An entire wing to himself, but no freedom. No company. No sensations, no matter how wounded he was. No matter how much he bled.

The cries died down, but his brother would still hear it ringing in his head. It was enough to bring tears to _his_ eyes.

That’s why it was always important to visit him. 

 

It was never easy to get pass the slew of servants at every corner, but he’d get stealthier each time. Like Noiz, he was rather stubborn when he wanted to be.

Eventually, he’d come, and not even by Noiz’s request. Usually, as soon as Noiz heard that soft, familiar voice he’d do all he could to send him away. 

But no, Noiz’s brother would talk to him from behind the door that separated them.

"Why are they keeping you in time-out for so long? I think it’s enough…You should come out now! I wanna play, it’s not fair!!"

Rolling his eyes, Noiz would continuously warn and berate him, repeating words Mutti and Vati had said—though with a little less malice. “I’m dangerous. I could hurt you.”

And, _“Go away.”_

And, _“They won’t like it. You’ll just get caught.”_

And, _“I’m not allowed to talk to you, so leave me alone already.”_

And the only retort from his brother would be a chuckle and a,

"That’s ridiculous; then just listen! Ignore me if you want, I’ll just keep going."

And Noiz would pretend to ignore his brother’s innocent ramblings, keeping his ear pressed against the wall, straining to hear every detail about his brother’s day. About that stupid party their parents threw, about how cold it’s been, about what he hopes he’ll get for Christmas.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, if he was feeling particularly brave and cheeky, he would swipe some sweets from the kitchen—right from under the chef’s nose—and slide the stolen desserts under the door, just for Noiz. 

In the back of his mind, he wondered if one day it might be possible for him to scamper off with an even greater treat—a large enough key with the right set of teeth. 

His brother never would fully understand why their parents were punishing Noiz like this, despite all the vague explanations they gave him.

_"There’s…something not right with him. But please, don’t concern yourself, dear!"_

_"All the other nice children, why don’t you play with them? They’re all waiting for you!"_

_"He isn’t like you, sweetheart. You’re perfect."_

_"The son I’ve always wanted."_

_"We’re so lucky to have you."_

_"You’re our second-chance."_

_"We don’t want you to get hurt."_

_"If anything bad were to happen to you, I’d—"_

Hearing their side of the argument didn’t feel right. He tuned them out, frustrated and guilty. Feeling even more confused and troubled. 

How could they talk about Noiz as if he didn’t even exist?

How could they talk about Noiz like he’s just a pest that they’e responsible for?

Deep down, so deep that it made his chest feel so tight, he wondered if this was all his fault. 

Because, one day, a day that seemed so far away to him now, he and Noiz were playing rough and he started to cry. He bumped his head. He needed a bandage, but he was okay after 5 minutes.

If he hadn’t cried, if he had been more tough back then, would Noiz still be imprisoned like he was? It was just an accident. 

When he was injured, they cradled him and bathed him in endless kisses, in endless sympathy and affection. They made a big deal out of it as if it were fatal.

But he remembers the look of anger and paranoia that flashed upon his mother and father’s face. How their eyes turned into ice when they glanced accusingly at Noiz, who just stood there with a bruise blooming on his cheek.

 

* * *

 

Both of them sat with their backs against the wall, conspiring quietly so no maid or nanny would hear them. Noiz’s brother cautiously peered down the hallways, waiting and watching in case he had to make a break for it. More for Noiz’s sake than his own.

The worst he’d get would be a lecture and maybe a slap on the wrist from the grumpier servants. But Noiz…they weren’t exactly forgiving when it came to him, even if he’s safely trapped inside. And if their parents got wind of it, he honestly feared for what _they’d_ do to him. What they’d say.

Noiz would tell him, again and again, not to worry about what would happen to him. He could take anything they dish out. Noiz’s brother would simply hum in response and smile sadly, unconvinced. 

Out of the blue, he asked Noiz one of the many questions that had been nagging at him.

"Hey…Is it…Is it my fault you’re stuck in there?"

"… _What?_ Speak up a little. I can’t hear you. These damn thick walls.”

"Is it _my_  fault! Is it because of me? Is it my fault they won’t ever let you out of there? Because of that _one time_ , I mean, seriously—I didn’t even get a c-concussion!!” He enunciated as he was told, stumbling on the word “concussion”. He had trouble pronouncing words sometimes, which Noiz would find amusing any other day—if he wasn’t practically  _shouting_.

"Hey—wha— ** _hey._** _Stop_ , shut up, you. That’s _way_ too loud, they’re gonna hear you, and then what.”

"…Sorry."

"And for the record, no. It’s not your fault. This is my problem, not yours."

"…But you’re my brother, and I…I don’t know, they treat you too differently. We’re both their sons…and…we…"

"We _what?_ Should be treated the same? Ha, that’s funny. You’re their _golden child,_ that’s why. Nothing can ever happen to you. You’re their last hope. Thanks to you, they can actually have a semblance of a _perfect_ family. I’m just their dirty little secret.”

“ _No_ , you’re part of this family! You—you belong with us! If they truly didn’t want you, they would have abandoned you…you…we should all be together—”

The laughter that cut him off was bitter, it hurt more than any knock to the teeth would.

"That’s _hilarious_. Really. You’re killing me here, haha. Why don’t you tell these jokes during those horrible dinner parties they force you to go to? And then everyone would just _die_. Good riddance, too…”

Silence stretched on, and Noiz almost breathed a sigh of anguished relief. Did he leave?

But it wasn’t until he heard a sniffle and the scuffle of his brother’s shoes clicking angrily off of the marbled floors as he stormed away, that he was 100% sure.

Now he’s done it. Now he’s alone. 

He then would curl into himself, still with his back to the door, where he would stir up all the things he said. Add a sprinkle of regret and that’s his evening.

He wouldn’t dare admit that he already misses him, clinging to the struggling pet rabbit in his grasp—and even _she_ would eventually scamper away, out of his arms, away from him.

Out of reach like the words he could no longer take back.

Only the numbness stayed, as it always had. His only constant.

 

* * *

 

He’ll come to know, later on in life, that his brother always tried to be constant.

Once they got a little older, Noiz’s brother would slide more than just candy and weird rocks he found in the garden. Though his visits became less frequent, Noiz didn’t need his company as much, now that he finally convinced their draconian parents to let him connect to the Internet. 

When his brother had time to stop by, they’d trade game cartridges and cheat codes. Video games was sort of a shared passion, but Noiz was always more informed, always the first to know when a new game was gonna come out.

However, he soon grew bored of commercial titles, and began to work on his own indie creations, filled with puzzles and his own sick humor.

Despite his now tight schedule, Noiz’s brother would beg to be a beta tester, always eager to play his brother’s games. He never understood them and was often unsuccessful in his playthroughs, but the fact that Noiz had crafted the tiny virtual world entirely on his own impressed him greatly.

In addition to games, Noiz’s brother also slid some comics he found while he was in the city with some friends. 

"We went to this old bookstore and I saw a whole stack of these stuffed away in the back. I can’t—I can’t read a single word, but I thought the art style was neat. Thought of you."

"Aww. How considerate. Another distraction. I’ll look at them later, kinda busy at the moment."

"Me too! Actually, sorry, I need to go. Vater, he—ahh…erm…"

"…Tch, whatever, you don’t need to walk on eggshells with me, y’know. So what, the old man needs you. Don’t care. In fact, I feel sorry for you. You’re like his errand boy these days."

Noiz snorted derisively, and his brother, being as good-natured as he was, laughed along with him. 

"Yeah, haha…I know it looks that way, lately. He’s been training me about this stuff with the business, and—"

He stopped listening right then and there, deciding to pick up one of the comic books his brother had bought for him. The cover was colorful with a cast of expressive characters, all in really cool poses and outfits. Lots of zippers. Tons of zippers and belts and all that hair…

It intrigued him. 

He flipped it open, and on the inside he was met with a world of monochrome and meaningless speech bubbles.

_How the hell do you even read this shit? Do you tilt it sideways? What’s going on? Am I even starting from the right end—oh. I just… I just…spoiled the whole thing for myself, didn’t I? Oh, goddamn it—_

"—I don’t even understand _why_ the color of your tie even matters, but he said it’s for a psychological effect and he seems to know what he’s talking about when it comes to intimidation. Ah…Oh no, I’m late!! The driver’s waiting, they’ll be looking for me…I’ll message you soon!”

"Yeah…okay." _If you can manage_ , he almost added.

But now he was determined to understand what all these weird strokes meant. It had only taken him less than a week to learn how to read binary and other programming codes, so he was certain this will be a no-brainer.

He had tons of time to kill, after all, why not learn a new language? It seemed like the perfect afternoon to start; he could tell from the twilight that drifted from the barred windows.

That first manga he translated was his gateway drug, sort to speak. 


End file.
